A Day at the Park
by sampurified
Summary: Sam and Dean arrive at an out-of-the-way amusement park in order to blow off some steam from their regular, everyday, demon-hunting life.


"What are we even doing here, Dean?"

Sam Winchester frowned at his older brother as he slammed the car door shut with a creaky _bang_. He watched with eyebrows furrowed as Dean stood up to his full height (which wasn't much, anyway), took a great whiff of the surrounding air as if trying to breathe in a fully stocked flower shop, and grinned.

Seeing that he wasn't going to respond, Sam added, "I feel like a little kid. Dean."

"Aww, come on, Sammy, that's the whole point of this!" Dean said placatingly. "It's been way too long; we need a _break_."

The taller brother huffed. "Evil doesn't rest. It never does. We've learned that time and time again. Who's going to be cleaning up the messes?"

"Believe it or not, there are other hunters out there in the world besides us," countered Dean. "It may not seem like it sometimes," he added with a tiny chuckle, "but there are. So you just let that tense little mind of yours relax. And let's ride."

He took off toward the entrance of the amusement park. Early morning light leaked through the spokes of Ferris wheels and coils of roller coasters. High-pitched screams and laughs permeated the air like a never-ending soundtrack.

Once he was sure Dean couldn't see him, Sam followed, allowing a small smile to ease his strong face. A break really was in order, he admitted to himself. He'd seen so much pain, so much suffering, so much blood. Any normal man would go insane. But Sam was definitely not normal. He was 6'4", broad-shouldered, with an angular jaw, a '67 Chevy Impala, and an overprotective brother constantly in the driver's seat.

Oh, and they hunted demons together, as well.

Okay, it wouldn't always be demons. Sometimes it'd be vampires, or ghouls, or wendigos, or werewolves, or djinns—they even came across a few fairies a while back. All manner of creatures that you could think of, and more. That was Sam's life. And he hated it.

Well…he didn't _hate_ it exactly. There were some perks that came with hunting, as with every job. You get practically unlimited use of all sort of weapons (albeit not exactly _legal_ use), a constant cross-country road trip (and staying in cheap motels in between), the tasting of all kinds of food and drink (typically in cheap restaurants and bars), and not to mention an underlying sense of good in all that you do. After all, he was saving people.

Sam sighed heavily. Dean had already paid for their two tickets and was impatiently waving him over. He was just tired, Sam thought. Tired of always being the one to save everyone. Tired of the constant responsibility. Tired of the greasy food and the ceaseless cuts and bruises and the casual use of dozens of different aliases and of always having to carry a gun in the waistband of his jeans, and of the seemingly perpetual sense of _loss_. He just wanted a break. And oftentimes, it seemed like too much to ask of the world. But today, just for today, it wasn't too much to ask of his brother. And if that break rolled along in the form of a day-long romp around a garden-variety amusement park in the middle of nowhere, then Sam was going to take it.

But he was still going to pretend he didn't want to. After all, he had an image to keep.

"Ugh, finally," Dean groaned. "You'd think you would walk faster with those mile-long strides of yours, Gigantor. Let's go." He held out one of the tickets, which Sam accepted gratefully.

One by one, the brothers stepped hesitantly through one of those shiny metal detectors, which was so tall that it could accommodate Sam with room to spare—and for once in their life, it didn't go off. The lady at the counter looked at them weirdly after she saw their sighs of relief, but she accepted their tickets with a smile.

The youngest Winchester inhaled slowly. _Here we go. Oh God, I'm too old for this_. Together, they strode past the ticket booths and into the amusement park.

All around them were rides—colorful carousels, nausea-inducing spinny rides of all sorts, serpentine roller coasters with loops twisting around one another like Slinkies, a towering Ferris wheel, several fun-looking swing sets, one of those pendulum boat-things, and a spacious bumper car arena. There were plenty of old-fashioned game booths scattered around the place, and food stands at regular intervals. Sam could see Dean's mouth watering at one with a large sign that said "**FUNNEL CAKES**".

"Hey." He snapped his fingers in front of Dean's face. The man blinked and stuttered indignantly. "Whatever, Dean," Sam chuckled. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as the crisp morning cold threatened to nip away at his skin.

"So," Dean announced in reply, now out of his trance and looking around eagerly, "what do you wanna hit first?"


End file.
